


up rose a bright moon

by KarenaWilliams (ryvrr)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I just have a lot of Jefferson feels, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Reader is Grace's mother, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sad Jefferson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4488510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryvrr/pseuds/KarenaWilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll be back before you know it,” Jefferson told you.</p><p>"You don't have to go," you replied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	up rose a bright moon

**Author's Note:**

> I've been reading Mad Hatter | Jefferson fics, and now I have a lot of feels. I'm planning on writing something with a _lot_ more plot eventually, but this was just something small to tide me over. Hey, if even one person gets some enjoyment out of it, then I'll count myself a job well done. This was self beta'd, so keep that in mind!
> 
> The title is from "Hummed Low" by Odessa. Always feel free to follow me on my [main tumblr](http://traigcucker.tumblr.com) or my [fanfiction tumblr](http://karenawilliams-sucka.tumblr.com) if you ever wanna shout about your/our feels!

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Jefferson told you. He was busy moving about the house to make sure he had what he needed for this trip. You wrung your hands together and shook your head, mostly at your own thoughts. This whole situation didn’t sit well with you. Something was it was just… it felt wrong.

“You don’t have to go,” you replied. Jefferson only spared you a brief glance with a quirked brow. Clearly he didn’t buy that. “I know,” you said, “I know she’s the Evil Queen, but… something about this isn’t right, Jefferson. I really wish you’d stay. Grace and I have enough here as long as you’re with us.” 

Your husband shook his head. “This is the last time,” he said as he finished his searching. He came towards you and placed a hand on your cheek, which you quickly moved your face more into. “That’s a promise. After this, we’ll wash our hands of it. We’ll have everything we need with the money that will come from it.” 

“We don’t need the money,” you told him and he scoffed. 

“Look at where we live,” he said with a shake of his head. “This isn’t where I’d hoped to settle with my wife and children, with my true love.” His eyes sought out yours once more and he forced a pained smile. “You’ll see,” he whispered. “This last trip, and then it’ll be over and we’ll be better off.” 

He began to move towards the front door and you hurried to follow after him. “I like it here,” you told him in a strained voice. “Grace likes it here too. We don’t need anything more than you, Jefferson. We’ve only always needed you, and the hats you make bring in enough money.” 

“I’d hoped to provide enough that you didn’t have to peddle your wares--” 

“I’m a _healer_ , Jefferson, an apothecary. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, just as your hats are marvelous and worthy of your pride.” Jefferson shook his head and opened the door, taking one step outside and twisting to look at you over his shoulder one last time. 

“Keep an eye on Grace,” he told you, and then seemed to remember something else because he fully turned towards you. “Kiss for good luck?” 

You sighed and moved forward quickly to press your dry lips against his own. You pulled back a moment later and glanced over his shoulder to see Regina in the distance, waiting impatiently. “Stay safe,” you told him, “and I will keep Grace and I here waiting for you.” 

Jefferson’s lips quirked. “I’ll return before you even have time to miss me,” he said and then he set off. He walked quickly across the yard and to Regina’s side, before they both disappeared from sight. You stood in the open door, a hand clutched over the fabric of your dress as your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. 

“Mama?” Grace asked from the kitchen and you turned to see she’d been staring at you worriedly. “Papa will be back soon, won’t he?” 

You forced a smile to your lips as you closed the door and then approached her. “Of course, Grace,” you placated her. “This is the last time your father will have to leave for a long while once he gets back. Then he’ll be able to spend a lot more of his time with us. Imagine that! You will get so sick of your papa that you’ll be _begging_ him to leave!” 

Grace giggled. “Mama!” she cried and her hands reached out to clutch your own as she grinned up at you. “I wouldn’t ever become sick of papa, or of you!” You reached a hand out to push a strand of hair away from her eyes and behind her ear. 

“My darling child,” you whispered and then got to your feet, still with your hands wrapped around hers. “Would you care to help your dear Mama with her herbs out back? They need some loving tending, and you’re just the sort to cheer them up!” 

Grace agreed and chattered to you about the newest book she’d started as you both went outside to garden. You tried not to let your dark thoughts catch up to you, but something in your stomach was unsettled. Jefferson’s newest trip didn’t sit well with you. You had a bad feeling about this. 

Several months passed, and with each passing day you grew more and more distraught. There was no word from Jefferson-- from your dear husband-- and no word from the Evil Queen Regina. No matter how many letters you sent begging to know the fate of your husband, nothing was said to you. Grace grew more and more worried with each passing hour, asking you if you knew anything about Papa. 

It pained you to have to admit that you knew nothing. No matter how much time passed, Grace didn’t stop asking about Jefferson. Each day was the same question, and with each passing day you had to give her the same tired answer. Your stomach grew sour and unsettled, and you came down with illnesses more often because of your worry. 

Then came the day when the darkness crept over the lands. It had been whispered that things were growing unsettled and evil was approaching, but you hadn’t believed it. Grace and you stayed in the cottage mostly, and you only went into town when supplies grew thin. Your herbs and cold remedies for the villagers gave you enough money to eek a living, though it wasn’t easy and more often than not Grace got all the good food while you went hungry. 

When the darkness finally settled over everything-- when the news came that others were disappearing after it rolled over the land-- you and Grace sat huddled under her blankets. “Do you think this is why Papa hasn’t come home?” she whispered to you as the winds howled outside. 

“Maybe we’ll see him again,” you told her with a gentle hand running through her hand. “Maybe once the darkness has vanished again, he will come out and we’ll be together once more. Keep your thoughts happy, Grace. The darkness never lasts forever.” 

That was the last time that  (Y/N) with a darling daughter Grace and her missing husband Jefferson thought anything of her own at all. The (D/N) of Storybrooke was a quiet, shy secretary for an office on the main street. You didn’t have very many friends and you preferred to keep it that way. It hurt, when eventually those people left your life. Something had hurt you in the past that made you shy away from the pain that would come of your loved ones leaving. 

You didn’t notice at first when there was a man who would crop up on the outskirts of your life more and more often. He wore nice clothing and scarves around his neck, his hair well styled and his eyes sad. The first time you saw him, your eyes landed on him for a moment before they skittered away. The only reason you remembered him at all was because of the miserably unhappy expression on his face when your eyes lingered on him for a moment. 

After that, you started to spot him from afar every few days. It felt like these days stretched into eternity, and after awhile you stopped consciously noticing him at all. He seemed nice enough-- there were two instances in your memory where you had spoken, and he’d been polite though sad. The third time you spoke with him, it was outside of the police station and you had accidentally ran into him. 

“I’m sorry,” you told him and reached out with a napkin to pat at the stain on his fashionable jacket, frowning. “I didn’t see you.” Your coffee was now all down his front and your stomach twisted into knots. “I’m such a clutz. Please, here,” you told him as you reached into your purse and fished out a pen. You quickly jotted your number onto it and held it out to him. “If that doesn’t come out, just let me know. I can, I’ll pay to get it dry cleaned.” Your eyes finally went to his face instead of studying the stain. 

He frowned down at the napkin, before his eyes shifted to your own face. “Alright,” he told you and held the napkin up to signal he had definitely received it. “I’m Jefferson,” he went on to say right when you were about to walk away. “I’ve seen you around town, have I not?” 

“You probably have,” you told him after a brief pause. You weighed whether you should make excuses and scuttle home, but then something within you held you back. You heaved a sigh. “Though the reason we haven’t talked in the past is because I’m not very social.” 

“I’ve noticed,” he said with a wry smile flirting at the edges of his lips. “I’m not one for social functions either.” 

You glanced up at him and then your lips twisted at the corners to match his own smile. “Then we have that in common, at least,” you told him. “Oh, my manners, I’m (D/N),” After you uttered your name something shifted behind his eyes and his next smile looked sad around the corners. 

“Pleasure to meet you, (D/N),” he said, though it didn’t look like he felt much pleasure at all. You wondered if he had known someone with that name before and that was why he had such a pained expression now. “I shouldn’t keep you,” and before you could tell him he wasn’t, he had left. You watched him leave with a sour feeling in your stomach, though you hadn’t the foggiest as to why. 

There were more times after that when you were able to speak to Jefferson, though he always had that tired, sad look in his eyes. Sometimes he seemed more frantic than usual, and during those times he very rarely even tried to talk to you at all. You still didn’t know much of him, though he was always appearing at the fringes of your life. You wondered what had happened to him to make such a handsome man look so unbearably tired and pained. 

Your answer came soon after Emma Swan moved into town. The blonde was shaking up Storybrooke from the ground up. You had spoken with her on several occasions, but nothing too deep. For the most part you kept to yourself, except on the one or two chances you bumped into her at Granny’s diner. She seemed nice enough. You liked her, though that like only grew once the _curse_ was broken. 

The tea kettle had just started whistling when it happened, when everything came rushing back to you. You stared off into the distance as your teapot shrieked, lost in your thoughts. You snapped back a moment later and took it off the burner, switching the oven off and going to grab your coat and shoes. You needed to leave right that instant. 

Grace would be at the school, though she’d been clambering on a bus right about now, you supposed. You hurried out of your apartment and onto the street, unsure where you were going but knowing you’d be there as long as you walked. You followed the pull in your gut as you wandered from street to street, until suddenly something slotted into place. You could see them ahead of you, Jefferson bent and hugging Grace to him. 

“Well aren’t you both a sight for sore eyes,” you murmured as you walked up to them without either realizing. Both jerked and turned to stare in your direction, Jefferson’s eyes still having a bit of sadness around the corners but quickly easing. Grace began laughing as she raced to you, throwing her arms out so that you could pick her up into your arms. “You’ve gotten bigger!” you gasped as you held her in your arms and she clung to you. “My darling Grace, look at you.” 

You set her on her feet once more a moment later, and she clung to your hand, reaching her free hand out for her Papa to take. Jefferson peered at you with red rimmed eyes and a tiny smile. “Wife,” he said softly. 

“I see it didn’t come out,” you told him as you pointed at his jacket, the one he’d worn that same day you’d bumped into him. He blinked his confusion at you before his head tipped down and he looked to where you were pointing. “I suppose I owe you a new jacket, hm? It seems even as  (D/N), I was still the same clutz that I’ve always been.” 

Jefferson looked up at you with a tiny smile and a lot of hope in his eyes. “I have a few suggestions for how you can make it up to me.” 

“I think I know an herb or two that might help with cleaning it out completely,” you told him as you hummed, and a smile slowly split across your lips. “Why don’t we go home and see what I can do.” 

“Home,” Grace said happily as she smiled, swinging her hands between the two of you as you all began following Jefferson’s lead to where he must have been staying all this time. “Home is where we belong.” 

“Home is where you both are for me,” Jefferson whispered, and Grace didn’t seem to have noticed, but you turned a loving smile on him in response. 

“You’re always forgetting,” you murmured and he looked at you in surprise, “to give me my hello kisses too.” He didn’t need any more prompting to lean over the top of your daughter’s head to press his lips sweetly to your own.


End file.
